


My Boy Builds Coffins

by Dance_Elle_Dance



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Angst, District 2, Drama, F/M, Post-Mockingjay, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 03:56:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4945807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dance_Elle_Dance/pseuds/Dance_Elle_Dance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the anniversary of the Capitol's defeat, everyone drinks to the victory. Gale, however, drinks to the small girl whose grave he can never properly visit. (Originally posted on 10/25/11.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Boy Builds Coffins

**Author's Note:**

> Another re-post of a GalePrim fic that I've written. Please enjoy!

The drink burns as it makes its way down his throat.

Gale Hawthorne leans against the crumbling brick wall of a random building in District 2, whisky in hand, fireworks sounding around him. Independence Day - a new concept for them all, especially him, to be able to celebrate freely the fall of the Capitol, the rise of a democracy, the dissolution of the Games, and the burning wings of the Mockingjay that started it all.

He takes a swig and savors the sensation the alcohol makes as it winds its way down his throat.

The party around him is alive, the entire District singing with elation. Liberation. People are happy, shouting and crying and laughing. Others are solemn, remembering the fallen comrades that died in the rebellion.

Gale finds himself in the latter category.

Sure, he thinks of all the people lost. He thinks of the ones he knew and the ones he didn't. The ones that died and the ones that didn't. Because, frankly, he's lost several living people to the war as well.

That's not who his focus is on, though.

He finds himself not thinking of the Mockingjay like he used to, but of the younger sister. The jay that hadn't been given the time to grow into a radiant bird. The little chick that hadn't yet left the nest. The one with the softest down and the bluest eyes. The one that had caught flame just like the Girl On Fire, but was consumed completely.

He downs the rest of his drink and goes in search for another.

The sky is as dark as the Seam in his hair, but lights up with fireworks every now and then. Colors of a new hope. The frantic sounds of children laughing and playing and running about echo around him, and he's taken back to a day when he played with a young girl, one so innocent and mature at the same time. The one that wasn't as guarded as other Seam children. The one that was open and kind and so, so bright that it almost hurt to look at her.

He wanders down the streets, trying not to feel the tug in his heart as he sees the occasional blonde haired child. Or the one with the blue eyes that might as well be at home in a robin's nest. He makes his way through the throng of people, wanting to escape, wanting to be anywhere but here, because with his chain of thoughts and the liquor in his system, it almost feels like they're celebrating her death.

_"Gale! I've missed you!"_

Now he's hearing her…

The voice in his head is a pale imitation of what once was.

_"You know, Katniss missed you too, but she just wouldn't say it."_

So innocent and pure. So like Katniss and so unlike her at the same time. Gale can't bring himself to think straight, the thoughts are almost too much for him to handle at this point in time. He finds a dark alleyway and leans back against the brick yet again. The cheering crowd is no where to be seen, but he can hear them - _oh, he can hear them_ \- and it somehow lights a fire in his veins and curdles his blood at the same time.

He feels the beginnings of a headache start to form. Soon, the pressure builds up and it's like someone has placed his head in a vice. He imagines his brain as a grapefruit, squashed underneath some sluggish Capitol members' boot, uncaring and aloof to the fact that that fruit could have fed an entire family back in the Seam.

But those days are over.

He also realizes that his thoughts have taken a rather bizarre turn. Blame it on the whiskey, blame it on the anniversary, blame it on everything. Gale isn't sure what's going on, but when he closes his eyes he can see the image of a bundle of primroses imprinted on the back of his lids.

His hands grope against the crumbling brick of the wall, searching for anything to hold on to. Finding nothing. He wants so badly to scream, to be one of those survivors that can just lose it because of everything they've lost.

Katniss

District 12.

Katniss.

Prim.

His mother.

Katniss.

Prim.

Rory.

Posy.

Prim.

Vick.

Prim.

Prim.

_Prim._

The image of the girl with the butterscotch hair and bluebell eyes fixates itself into his mind. She's grinning, beaming with pride as she strokes Buttercup, and tells him that she wants to be a doctor.

_"I want to help people. I think it would be…very worthwhile."_

He remembers that that was the first time his heart skipped a beat for her. Over in District 13, curled up in the corner of the room during the bombings while Katniss talked with Odair.

She has crossed his mind before that, sure. Prim was always a bright child, smart and mature beyond her years, and with the looks to match. He had always pushed his attraction to the back of his mind when it came to her, focusing solely on the lost cause that was post-Games Katniss.

But then one day, she was there. Prim, the little girl with the giant heart and larger mind, as thin as a rail and as graceful as a bird. She was there and Gale knew he could never go back.

_And I killed her._ Directly or indirectly, he still doesn't know, but the fact remains the same. He lost two Everdeens the moment those bombs hit.

Gale finds that he has sunk to the ground, back still pressed solidly against the wall as shouts and fireworks resonate around him. He finds that his head is tilted firmly upward, and that his eyes are wide open and staring at everything and nothing all at the same time.

_"Gale…one day, will you take me swimming? Katniss doesn't like to revisit the lake, I don't think. Because of…of Dad."_

_"Sure thing, Rosie."_

_"Aw, come on! Don't call me that."_

_"Okay…Rosie."_

_"Gale!"_

His lips are pressed together so tightly that there is only a thin line where his mouth should be. His head is still arched in that unnatural position, staring straight up in the sky where the stars peak out during interludes in the assault of fireworks.

Fireworks erupt across the sky in a myriad of colors yet again. Gale watches, transfixed and ashamed and craving more drink.

The colors change from red, to blue, to purple and green and orange…

Then, suddenly, gold.

Gold flashes across the sky, sparking a trail of dust, and the image of her hair - braided loosely and flashing in front of his face as she runs from him - comes into his mind. The vibrancy of the memory is almost painful. No, no, there is no _almost_ about it. The thought of her so happy like that makes his chest ache in a way that is alien to him.

The gold lasts longer in the sky than the others, taunting him, and her voice comes yet again, a dull sounding memory compared to her actual voice.

_"I love you."_

She said that to him, you know. Only to him.

Gale buries his face in his hands while, pityingly, the stars twinkle down at him.


End file.
